Beast and Man
by Sethoz
Summary: A series of brutal attacks leads the League to the Black forest where an unnatural and deadly enemy lies in wait, it's attention fixed on one certain American...-Completed-
1. To Slay a Beast

**Disclaimer:- **This is just a short three part story, that was all inspired by the 15minute challenge on Live Journal. Each part was written for a different challenge. Some of you may have read this on Live journal, but the title was the other way around. Don't own LXG, Germany or anything else. Enjoy;

_**Beast and Man**_

_**Chapter One: To Slay a Beast**_

It screamed.

The sound tore at his heart and soul, but his hand did not waver. Carefully he raised the Winchester rifle again and took aim. It was a bloody battle to the end and while, in his heart, Tom Sawyer pitied the beast in front of him, he would not let it maul either himself of any other human.

Blood trickled down his right arm, where the large wolf had clawed at him, creating a deep gash. Silently Tom offered a prayer of thanks to whoever was listening that the wound was only on his right arm and not his left, which held the rifle steady.

The grey wolf screamed again, the cry sounding more human than animal, a long, loud primal scream that stirred Tom's blood, bringing to mind half forgotten memories of times when he too had been in great fear and distress. He had made similar sounds of pain... yellow eyes stared at him, as the wolf lifted it's shaggy head to look at the American. Tom stared back, transfixed at the wounded creature as it whined, a low sound deep in it's throat, the yellow eyes seeming to stare mournfully at the human. Tom blinked slowly as the rifle was lowered by suddenly limp fingers, the weapon becoming heavy in his grasp. Part of him knew that this beast, already mad by whatever it had faced it the wild had already killed three humans and one had been an innocent infant. The gunshot wound it carried in it's leg would only serve to anger it further still and the best course of action was to put the wolf out of it's misery.

Yet still the barrow dipped. The look in the yellow eyes changed and suddenly became cold and cruel. The male beast threw its head upwards and howled loudly, sending a shiver down Tom's spine. It's claws dug into the soil under it's paws as it tensed before charging towards the Agent, the creature seeming to ignore the pain it must be feeling in it's leg as it ran towards Tom, snarling and snapping it's teeth. Only the years of training he had undergone saved Tom as his instincts snapped to attention and the rifle came flying back up to point directly at the animal's chest. It did not falter in it's crazed charge and Tom knew he had no choice. With a grunt, Tom pressed the trigger, firing a bullet deep into the wolf's body a mere second before the animal would have been upon him.

It's death howl made Tom shudder as he tried to sidestep the beast, realising to his horror that even as it's died, the force of it's movement carried it towards him. The right paw rammed into Tom's chest, the claws impaling the young man. He gasped in shock, his mouth dropping open.

And then the pain came. Oh, the pain. It shot through him in waves, first ice cold and then poker hot. He jerked slightly, his mouth dropping open in a silent scream. All the air had been stolen from his lungs along with his voice and for a split second his mouth twisted in a pain that was unable to be expressed in sound.

The beast crashed to the side, it's now limp claws retracting from Tom's body. He blinked heavily, still standing upright. The fingers grasping the Winchester slowly uncurled themselves, the whole hand becoming limp. The weapon rolled off Tom's hand and fell to the ground. Tom watched it fall, as if he was a distant spectator, as everything retreated from himself, even the all consuming pain.

The Winchester hit the ground and bounced slightly, rolling down the slight curve of the land. Tom Sawyer blinked again, watching with detached interest as the blood seeped through his crisp white shirt, slowly staining it with the dark red. As if he couldn't believe what he was seeing, Tom's hand crept up to the wound, his fingertips just touching the edge of the blood stain.

Then he was falling, falling to his knees as his strength gave out on him. He knew his knees had hit the ground long before he felt it. The jolting sensation sped up his legs from where his knees had impacted on the ground and he blinked, trying to rid himself of the hazy veil that covered his eyes. A long sigh escaped his mouth and he felt himself fall forward, air brushing past his face as his body fell.

_Weird... I didn't think being stabbed would make me feel fuzzy..._

Tom hit the ground face first, the ground feeling cold against his skin. He gasped as the wound connected to the ground, the presser taking him by surprise. The pain came back in full force and he screamed, his mouth becoming full of loose soil. Gagging he pushed, his arms trembling as he tried to move. Tom only succeed in rolling over on his back and he stared up at the sky, twitching in pain.

He could feel wet blood under his back and he wondered at the large amount that already seemed to have seeped out of his body. With a sicking feeling he realised that the League didn't know where he was... nobody was coming to save him.

_**To Be Continued...**_

There you have it, part two will be posted soon.

The word was; **Painful**


	2. To Slay a Man

**Disclaimer:- **And here is part two, which has a bit more back story to it. As always I don't own LXG, Germany, Wagner or anything else used in this chapter. Hope you are all still enjoying this. Enjoy;

_**Beast and Man**_

_**Chapter Two: To Slay a Man**_

Tom lay on the ground, panting hard, knowing that every second he lay there, more and more of his life was fading away. The pain was still there, in large waves and Tom was oddly grateful for this. As long as it hurt, he knew he was still alive. It was when the pain began to fade that he would start to seriously panic.

A lone bird circled over head and Tom squinted up at it, watching it's graceful flight. It beat its large wings and flew lower and lower, as if it was interested in the plight of the human below it. The bird, Tom wasn't completely sure what it was – being viciously clawed by a Wolf tended to make people forget some things – landed on a branch and looked down at Tom. He stared back up at it, the hawk-like creature peering down, it's beady black eyes fixed on him.

For some reason, remembering what type of bird was perched above him became very important, even more so than trying to move and find help. The triviality of it was absurd, Tom knew that. He also knew that he should be using his fading energy to try and survive. His mind wandered and the pain began to fade.

Was it a falcon? It seemed smaller then falcons he had seen before. It looked oddly familiar to Tom and he couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen this type of bird before. There was something on the birds head, something dark, but his eyes were fading and it was hard to see anything clearly.

"Cack-cack-cack!" It called, and the noise sounded mocking, to Tom at least. He groaned, the tortuousness sound slipping past his dry lips. It _was_ a falcon, Tom was sure of it... the name hovered annoying just out of his concious reach and he frowned. He could almost feel the answer floating in his mind as he watched the bird call out again. A Peregrine Falcon. That was what it was. A Peregrine falcon.

Tom didn't even realise that the pain had gone.

The young American tried to smile, the edges of his lips just curving up, though it was a struggle. He lacked the energy to do anything else but watch the peregrine as it suddenly took flight, it's powerful wings beating hard. The bird of prey gave one last call before it flew over the tree tops and vanished from Tom Sawyer's line of vision. It was only when it's last call had faded into the distance that Tom suddenly became aware of the lack of pain.

Panic hit him and he desperately tried to move, to roll over, to do something. His limbs remained frozen despite his brain screaming at them to move. With an internal snarl he summoned all of his energy and managed to swing his arm upwards. His strength failed and the arm rested on his chest, his palm on the stab wound.

He couldn't feel his hand on his chest. He couldn't even feel the wetness of the blood that was soaking through his shirt and staining his hand. Everything felt strangely numb, with a sudden coldness being the only thing he could really feel.

Tom didn't want to die like this, alone, on the cold ground of some Germany forest. The famed Black forest. He cursed the day the League had heard about a strange wolf that had suddenly appeared and started killing. The whispers around the local village was that it had something to do with Wagner, a local myth. They blamed the evil Wagner for everything that went wrong in there village. He was supposed to be immortal, a great seducer of women.

He still didn't see what Wagner – a man dead for at least four hundred years – had to do with this wolf. When he had asked the locals that question they had mealy shook their heads and crossed themselves before hurrying away, muttering quietly under their breath. When the League had finally corned one, the peasant had acted as if he didn't understand English – a ridiculous notion, as the same man had spoken in perfect English to them only the day before.

His mind wandered as his body slowly began to shut down, the puddle of blood slowly becoming larger and larger. If this was death it was a little... anticlimactic. Tom's hand slipped down from his chest, the blood stained hand resting against the ground. When he weakly removed his hand a few moments later a blood stained hand print was left.

For some reason this amused Tom. It seemed fitting that if he should die here, he would at the very least, have left a mark on the place – he just didn't realise that the mark would be physical.

A large furry paw came down on Tom's chest, the pad pressing down hard. The sudden weight on Tom's wound made him scream as the pain rushed back to him. He gasped, his head jerking backwards to slam heavily into the ground. Black spots swum in front of him, light and dark dancing between his eyes. He looked up, right into a pair of large yellow eyes. The wolf that he had shot – that he had fired a bullet right into it's chest – was looming over him.

The thing – Tom didn't believe it was a wolf, it couldn't be, no mere wolf could survive the wounds he gave it – gave a chuckle, it's large jaws opening to revel a set of large, white teeth. Cruelly the wolf beast pressed down harder, causing Tom to squirm under him, his head thrown back. It dug a claw into the open wound and Tom screamed again, a raw sound.

The beast gave a throaty laugh.

_**To Be Continued...**_

The image was of a hand print on a window. I was inspired by the image though I changed it slightly.


	3. To Slay a Life

**Disclaimer:- **Here we have the final part! Yes, this is only a short story and we are already at the end of it. Thank you so much to everyone who left a review. As always I don't own LXG, Germany, Wagner or anything else used in this chapter. Hope you are like this last part. Enjoy;

_**Beast and Man**_

_**Chapter Three: To Slay a Life**_

The peregrine falcon flew through the air, beating its wings as it flew gracefully over the black forest and headed towards the small village that rested against the trees, the buildings pushing up against the looming forest. It circled as if looking for something before suddenly dropping like a stone and diving down towards a man who stood a few feet out of the village, his arm out stretched.

"Cack-cack-cack-cack!" The peregrine falcon trilled as it landed on the leather band. The bird lifted it's head, the small cap covering most of its feathers. The man spoke to it quietly, muttering in German to the bird of prey as he stroked the feathers.

The door to the nearest hut opened and Mina emerged from the darkness within, the rest of the League trailing behind her. She moved swiftly up to the man and stood silently next to him.

"Geist tells me he has seen your friend." The man said as he stroked the back of the birds head. Mina and Skinner exchanged glances. Though the man did not turn to look at the two behind him, he seemed aware of the disbelieving glance.

"Does it seem so strange to you that Geist and I can understand each other?" He asked mildly, giving Mina a quick glance. Mina tilted her head to one side, her blue eyes wide and clear before she lowed her head respectfully in understanding.

"He says that Wagner has your friend." The man finished. Skinner stepped forward, his grease painted face looking from one person to the other.

"For goodness sake, this Wagner has been dead for who knows how long! He probably didn't even exist." Skinner snapped. "What we should be doing is finding Sawyer and saving him!"

"Wagner **is** real Mr. Skinner. He... he is a Wehr-Wolf, a cursed being. If he does indeed have your friend then your friend is in trouble."

"Then what are we waiting for! Let's go!" Skinner said. The man looked at Geist for a few moments and the bird called out again. Sighing the man reached in his pocket and pulled out a silver stake.

"Only this will kill the beast. My ancestors thought they had killed him, but they missed the heart and so my line have watched this land ever since, waiting for the creature to return so we may once and for all be free of it's evil menace. Take it, as a gift from Geist and myself. We will lead you to your friend."

Nemo stepped forward and reached for the shining silver object that glinted in the light. He took it and bowed respectively, slipping the weapon into his belt.

---

Geist flew ahead of them, resting on a branch every few hundred yards to allow the following humans to catch up. Mina had to admit to herself that she was stating to believe that the peregrine was more intelligent than any normal bird. It reached a small clearing, and instantly Mina was hit by the over whelming scent of blood. She ran forward, ignoring everyone else's cries, her whole focuses fixed on two wet patches near the middle of the clearing. There was a large puddle of blood – too large and a bloody hand print.

She glanced around the area sharply, looking for their fallen friend.

"Mina look out!" Skinner only had time to shout out the words before a snarling wolf leaped out of the thick bushes and jumped on her, it's sharp teeth trying to bite into her. Dr. Jekyll set off at a run towards the place where the wolf had come from, having spotted a flash of blond and pale skin.

Mina and the wolf traded blows, the beast using it's already blood stained claws to cut a gash across Mina's face. It healed at once but a blow that she gave the creature healed as well.

"The stake!" She cried out as the wolf suddenly turned, it's yellow eyes fixed on Tom and Dr. Jekyll. The man helping them had moved over to the couple as well and he froze, his eyes fixed on the beast. The wolf looked at all the people in the clearing, it's shaggy head darting from one to another.

"He is planning on running!" The man called. This seemed to snap Nemo out of his daze and he moved forward, pulling the weapon out of his belt in one quick monition. Wagner the wolf bellowed and turned from Mina, bounding towards Nemo. Wagner easily knocked the raised stake aside and threw Nemo to the ground, it's large mouth opening. There was a sudden shout and in that instant the German was there, the fallen silver weapon in his hand. He plunged it deep in Wagner's back, the tip of the stake piecing the heart. Screaming in agony the wolf reared backwards, thrashing wildly. It half turned to face it's killer, it's powerful jaws crushing the man's neck in a death grip.

Beast and man fell to the ground, each dying before they touched it. The wolf's whole body began to shift and change, until simply two men lay dead on the ground. Nemo slowly stood up and moved over to the two fallen warriors, muttering under his breath. Across the clearing Jekyll breathed a sigh of relief as he finished examining Tom.

"Agent Sawyer is alive but we must hur... oh dear lord." He said, his voice failing. Mina bent down and lightly pressed two of her fingers against the man's neck for a pulse she knew she would not find.

"He gave his life for us..." Skinner muttered in shock.

Above them Geist gave a mournful call, it's sound echoing into the otherwise silent forest.

_**::fin::**_

Okay, so that didn't end in _quite_ the way I thought it would, but oh well. Geist is German for 'spirit' in the courage sense.

The word was; **giving**


End file.
